


you’ve got mail

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tamamori starts exchanging handwritten letters with Senga.





	you’ve got mail

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (mail).

“Kento, did Tamamori-kun move away?” Senga’s mom asks one morning at the breakfast table.

Senga pauses shoveling food into his mouth and gives her a strange look. “No? I see him practically every day.”

A plain white envelope is tossed in his direction, addressed to him from Tamamori. It’s definitely Tamamori’s handwriting, though neater than usual. “Is he inviting you to some kind of formal gathering?” his mom goes on, sounding curious.

“I—I don’t know,” Senga answers honestly as he carefully thumbs open the envelope. Their birthdays were months ago and Senga’s not close enough to Tamamori’s family to be a part of anything else. Pending any secret engagements (which is totally possible given Tamamori and Miyata’s questionable relationship), Senga has no idea what to expect as he pulls out the folded piece of lined yellow paper with an anime character on the header and some random stickers placed around the edges.

> To Senga-kun,
> 
> I read in your Kisulog that you like to receive letters, so I decided to mail you one. (^w^)
> 
> Wow, emoji are hard to draw.
> 
> Anyway, how are you? If there is anything on your mind, write it to me. I’ll gladly read it.
> 
> Do you like my stationary and stickers? Miyacchi gave it to me a long time ago. I’ve never had a use for them before now.
> 
> Let’s write back and forth, okay? I have a lot of this crap to use up.
> 
> From Tamamori Yuuta (^w^)

“It’s just a letter,” Senga says, shaking his head at it. “I wrote in our Kisulog that I liked letters, the real ones you send in the mail, so he wrote me one.”

“Ah,” Senga-san replies, just nodding. “Tamamori-kun is interesting.”

“That he is,” Senga agrees, pocketing the letter as he grabs one final mouthful and races for the train.

Once at the Jimusho, Tamamori acts like nothing is different. Senga gives him odd looks as they discuss single promotions and formations, wondering what the hell goes on in that guy’s mind sometimes. One of life’s unsolved mysteries, Senga concludes as Tamamori lays on Miyata and halfway pays attention.

“Ken-chan,” Kitayama breaks through his daze. “We know Tama-chan is beautiful, but it’s time to go over the choreo now.”

Senga shakes himself awake, his cheeks heating up a little at being caught staring like that, though Tamamori just looks amused. Quickly Senga focuses on the task at hand, covering both the dancing and skating choreography he’s put together for their performances, and he doesn’t think about Tamamori’s letter for the rest of the day.

“You got the hots for Tama now or something?” Nikaido asks casually as they gorge on gyoza after a grueling day of work.

“Oh my _god_ , Nika,” Senga replies, gaping at him incredulously. “We are in public.”

“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Nikaido says with a shrug. “The man is gorgeous. I’d probably go after him if I had enough patience.”

“Patience?” Senga inquires, forgetting all about being affronted. “What do you mean?”

“He just seems to be high-maintenance,” Nikaido tells him. “Like, you have to do all the work. Kitamitsu is lazy, but he’s also easy. Tama doesn’t seem like he’d be that easy, if Miyata’s endless attempts at getting him into bed are any indication.”

Senga wrinkles his nose at the thought of Tamamori and Miyata in bed. “Isn’t Miyacchi seeing that girl from Gaya’s zombie drama?”

“Is he?” Nikaido asks, making a face. “I thought they just geeked out over nerd stuff together. He said they spent like three hours in the anime store.”

Rolling his eyes, Senga pops a gyoza in his mouth and doesn’t bother swallowing before speaking. It’s just Nikaido. “Maybe that’s nerd code for having sex.”

Nikaido’s gradual progression of trauma is hysterical, leading Senga to choke on his gyoza and down half of his tea to dislodge it.

When he can breathe again, Nikaido is pointing at him. “You deserved that.”

That night Senga takes a notebook into the bath with him, printing as neatly as he can while trying not to get it wet. After the greetings, he sits for a moment and wonders what to talk about. He doesn’t have any reason to not trust Tamamori with personal things, but he doesn’t want to gossip either. After a long internal debate, Senga decides that Miyata shouldn’t be too upset about a rumor that he’s banging Kiritani Mirei and shares his dinner conversation with Tamamori. It’s worth it just for the three hours of nerd sex joke. Tamamori will probably get a kick out of that.

Then he apologizes for staring like a creeper earlier at work, though he probably doesn’t need to. It’s just formality, anyway, just like he’d thanked Tamamori for his letter and being so thoughtful to send one in the first place. Things like that he probably wouldn’t say to Tamamori’s face, because it would just be weird.

He continues by praising Tamamori’s skating and commenting that he’s really been improving lately. He deserves to be in the front, Senga goes on, saying he’ll be right behind cheering him on. That sounds really dumb on a reread, but he’s writing in pen and doesn’t feel like starting over. He’s already written so much.

_The water’s getting cold, so I should get out_ , Senga scrawls near the bottom. _See you tomorrow. From Senga Kento._

The next morning he starts to head to the post office before work, then wonders why he’s wasting postage when he can easily slip the letter into Tamamori’s bag. He could also walk right up and give it to him, but somehow that takes the fun out of it. They haven’t spoken about this in person at all. Senga likes it better that way, a bit of secrecy since this is something just between him and Tamamori. Nobody else needs to know.

He doesn’t hear anything for two days, then his mother hands him another envelope at the breakfast table, this one including a row of stamps inside the folded letter.

> To Senga-kun,
> 
> Don’t be a cheater! Isn’t it nice to receive letters in the mailbox? I would like to receive them that way, too. (>_<)
> 
> There is no way Miyacchi is giving it to Mirei-chan for three hours (lol). I tease him about her constantly and he’s an awful liar. They’re not actually dating yet, but he really likes her. Don’t tell him I told you that.
> 
> I don’t mind that you were looking at me. It’s nice to be admired. (-^-) I have been feeling a bit like a big, clumsy oaf around you guys lately, so your words made me smile. It’s thanks to Senga-sensei that I have improved! Please keep writing flattering things about me. It makes me happy.
> 
> Your letter was quite long, but there was nothing about YOU. Just Miyacchi and me. In your next reply, tell me something about you! You can start by explaining why the hell you were writing in the bathtub. That’s weird.
> 
> From Tamamori Yuuta (^w^)
> 
> P.S. Doesn’t this emoji look like Miyacchi? (^C^) (lol)

Senga laughs so hard that he snorts into his juice, earning the attention of his entire family as he just waves the letter at them in defense. “Tama-chan drew an emoji of Miyacchi with a big nose,” he explains.

His mother smiles while his father goes back to eating and his brother gives him a strange look. “You and Tamamori-kun are still writing letters to each other?” she wants to know.

“Yeah,” he answers. “It’s surprisingly fun.”

“That’s sweet,” his mother says, and Senga just smiles at her as he finishes eating and grabs his bag. Their appearance today is early enough that he can hitch a ride from his dad, who’s silent and stoic as usual until they get to the front of the studio.

“Kento,” he says just before Senga opens the door, and Senga turns to look at him in surprise. “No matter what, your mother and I still love you.”

Senga blinks. “Thanks, Dad.”

His father nods and wishes him a good day, and Senga returns the same parting words as he gets out of the car and heads to the dressing room.

“What’s that face for?” Nikaido greets him, and Senga pounds his fist as he tosses his bag in the corner with the others.

“My dad just said the strangest thing to me,” Senga tells him, then relays the statement. “It was completely unprecedented. I haven’t talked about doing anything different.”

“What happened before that?” Nikaido asks. “Sometimes my old man will comment on something that happened like four hours later and I have no idea what the hell he’s referring to until I backtrack.”

Senga thinks back to breakfast. The only notable occurrence was when his brother had brought in the mail, and—“Oh,” he says out loud, a little bit embarrassed as he figures it out.

“What?” Nikaido presses, wholly invested in Senga’s business.

“It’s nothing,” Senga says, not wanting to share the secret with Nikaido just yet. Besides, he doesn’t know how to say “Tama and I have been exchanging written letters” without implying exactly what his father thinks.

He’s saved by Fujigaya storming in, ranting about some bitch who cut him off, and Nikaido seems to forget the whole conversation by the time they break for lunch. Miyata’s the hot topic of the day anyway, since he has an incriminating mark on his neck that he _swears_ is from the flat iron, and Nikaido spews his drink everywhere when Tamamori calmly asks if Miyata has been to the anime store lately.

Later, Senga has a wastebasket full of crumpled false starts because he can’t seem to put into words what’s really on his mind.

“What are you even writing?” his brother mocks him from the hallway. “You’ve been out of school for years.”

“A novel,” Senga snaps at him. “Go away.”

“Crab ass,” is the reply, but Senga forgives him since he closes the door behind him. Senga usually tries to leave it open, not wanting to cut himself off completely from the rest of his family when he’s already home so little, but he can’t concentrate as it is.

> To Tama-chan,
> 
> Thank you for the stamps. I’ll mail your letters since you insist, but could you just give me mine? My parents are making a big deal about it and saying weird things. Sorry if that ruins the fun for you. (_ _)
> 
> About Miyacchi, I really hope that love bite was real. He deserves to be happy.
> 
> And shut up, you are not a big, clumsy oaf. I wish I was as tall as you. More flattering things? I like your hair now. It looks good dark. I admire how laid-back you are. Even when you’re mad, your eyes are gentle. Is that enough? I feel weird writing these things to you (lol).
> 
> I don’t have anything going on right now other than work, but you already know this. (-_-) There is something on my mind, but I don’t know how to put it. I write in the bathtub because it’s where I feel the most relaxed. I’m at my desk right now, which is why I can’t think of the right words.
> 
> I’m sorry this letter sucks. Don’t stop, though, okay? I’ll try harder next time. (^w^)
> 
> From Senga Kento

He almost scraps this one, but it’s already late and he has a feeling he’s not going to sleep well tonight as it is. At least his mind is a nonjudgmental place and he allows the thoughts to flow, Nikaido’s accusation from the other day along with his father’s words this morning leading to an obvious conclusion that Senga’s not sure how he feels about.

Senga doesn’t really know anything about this kind of stuff at all. He’s been in love once in his life, with the first girl who brought him chocolates on Valentine’s Day when he was in the third grade. He confessed to her afterward and she had smiled, then told him that she’d made chocolates for all of the boys in their class and that she just liked him as a friend.

He’s not without experience, of course, but none of it had anything to do with feelings. It’s been years anyway, and it was always just to pass the time or relieve hormonal urges. Ironically, it had never happened with Tamamori; Senga usually stuck to Nikaido, who was the one with whom he felt the most comfortable. For a while now they’ve been old enough to sneak around with girls like everyone else and thus have no reason to hook up anymore.

Senga sighs as he lay awake in bed. He wishes he’d posted in their Kisulog about texting instead, at least then he’d get Tamamori’s response within an hour or so. Waiting for multiple days is going to kill him, especially now that he has to mail Tamamori’s letter properly.

It helps that they have a couple days off while Fujigaya has drama shooting and Yokoo and Nikaido have their play. Senga hangs out with Fujigaya’s younger brother, shopping and catching up on movies he’s wanted to see.

“You okay, man?” Yuusuke asks after Senga loses the third round of their video game. “You’ve been more chill than usual lately.”

“Have I?” Senga asks. “I’m sorry.”

Yuusuke frowns. “Something on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Senga admits, “but it’s not really something I want to talk about with you. No offense.”

“None taken.” Yuusuke grins, and Senga’s confused until he adds, “Good luck with her.”

Senga almost chokes on his spit. “Her?”

“You’re obviously all hung up on some girl,” Yuusuke tells him. “You have the same dumb lovesick look Aniki gets whenever he sees his reflection.”

“Excuse you,” the eldest Fujigaya’s voice sounds from the entryway, where he’d just walked into the house. “You look just like me, brat, so be grateful.”

He steps into the living room, clearly exhausted, and locks eyes with Senga, looking surprised to see him there. “Hey,” Senga says, feeling sufficiently awkward.

“Hey,” Fujigaya replies, loosening his tie as he flops onto the couch. “So who are you in love with?”

“ _No one_ ,” Senga hisses while Yuusuke snickers.

“Is it Tama-chan?” Fujigaya asks casually, and Senga freezes. “You’ve been staring at him a lot. If I remember correctly, he’s a really good kisser.”

“Ew, Aniki, keep your BL to yourself,” Yuusuke taunts, and Fujigaya throws a couch pillow at him, neither one paying any attention to Senga.

They both forget about the accusation by the time they’re done wrestling, Yuusuke winning easily and Fujigaya calling him a dirty cheater for taking advantage of his big brother’s hard day of work. They end up sprawled across the floor as Yuusuke’s favorite variety show comes on TV, and Fujigaya laughs at the first gag before promptly falling asleep.

Senga doesn’t forget about it, though, not by any means.

He sleeps over at Fujigaya’s that night, curling up in a futon on Yuusuke’s bedroom floor, and Yuusuke’s snoring is distracting enough to keep his mind from focusing on anything. In the morning, he shows up at their rehearsal with Fujigaya, who whines to everyone about Senga coming over to see Yuusuke instead of him until Kitayama says pointedly that Senga chose the most pleasant Fujigaya brother, and they’re already having their first argument of the day when Tamamori arrives.

Suddenly it’s like Senga is in one of those cheesy chick flicks where music plays in the background and white smoke follows Tamamori’s entrance, which has him shaking his head because that’s just ridiculous. He doesn’t even have any reason to feel anything towards Tamamori. All the man did was write him a letter. It was thoughtful, yes, but far from wooing.

The fact that Senga even thought the word ‘wooing’ has him wanting to kick his own ass, dropping his face into his hands as they get to work. He tries to keep his attention from wavering, knowing that Fujigaya at the very least has noticed, but it’s difficult when Tamamori just shines so brightly. Even in practice clothes and a ballcap, his face is still the same and it makes Senga even happier to see him so determined, concentrating hard on the moves—something Senga is definitely not doing.

Naturally he runs into Nikaido, who grabs for Yokoo as he falls and Senga ends up on the bottom of their back-four pileup, groaning as the others try unsuccessfully to detangle themselves on top of him.

When he can finally move, his head is throbbing, and he opens his eyes to see two Tamamoris blinking down at him. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asks firmly, flashing a peace sign, and Senga just gapes at him because he’s even prettier close up, those caring eyes locked on Senga like he’s the most important thing in the room, though right now he probably is.

“Angel,” Senga says without thinking, because the light behind Tamamori kind of makes it look like he has a halo.

Tamamori holds back a laugh as he feels the back of Senga’s head. Suddenly he touches something that really fucking hurts, making Senga whine and Tamamori say, “Ah, here it is. You managed to give yourself a nice-sized bump.”

“Let’s break for a couple hours,” Fujigaya suggests, and Senga’s the only one who groans in dissatisfaction as Fujigaya turns to point at him and Tamamori. “You two stay here, everyone else find somewhere to go.”

“You know the drill, Tama-chan,” Yokoo calls over before he leaves, tossing Tamamori an ice pack. “Ten on, ten off, and keep him awake. If he starts to act weird, take him to the hospital.”

“Got it,” Tamamori says, looking unbothered at being the one to stay and take care of Senga, though technically he’d nominated himself already.

The ice feels nice against the bump, and Tamamori situates them so that Senga’s head is lying on Tamamori’s thigh with the ice pack balanced between them. “Isn’t it cold?” Senga mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Tamamori answers, smiling down at Senga. “It’s weird doing this for someone else for once.”

Senga starts to laugh, but he ends up cringing because it hurts. Tamamori’s fingers are instantly on his face, pushing his bangs out of his eyes that naturally fall shut at the pleasant touch.

“Hey, no sleeping,” Tamamori says, gently poking his forehead. “You have to stay awake. Tell me what you did since we last met.”

He speaks easily, no worries about mixing up words that sound the same or using proper sentence structure as he lists his activities for the past couple days. Tamamori interrupts to ask probing questions, such as what he ate or what movies he and Yuusuke watched. It has to be the most boring conversation Senga has ever had in his life, but Tamamori’s at least pretending to be interested, so Senga keeps talking as Tamamori’s fingers continue to brush his hairline.

Three ice pack cycles later, Senga tries to sit up with minimal pain. “I think you know every single thing I’ve done in the past seventy-two hours now.”

“Good,” Tamamori says. “Now you’ll have to write about something else in your letter.”

Senga turns to stare at him, and Tamamori just flips an envelope out of his bag. “Special delivery,” he jokes, tucking the envelope in Senga’s shirt pocket before grinning at him.

It feels like some kind of fourth wall has just been broken now that they’re acknowledging this in person, though in retrospect that shouldn’t be as big of a deal as Senga feels it is. It’s just a damn letter. It’s not like they’re sharing heartfelt secrets or anything. Up until this point, anyway, Senga would be fine with anything either of them have written being published in the Dengonban.

“I would have read it to you, but then you really would have fallen asleep,” Tamamori says apologetically. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, a lot,” Senga answers, rubbing the back of his head and wincing at the tender (and cold) bump.

“Let me see,” Tamamori says, urging Senga’s head down and feeling around in the back. It doesn’t hurt as much when Tamamori touches it, though the way he hums sounds disapproving. “It’s still pretty big. Try to stand up.”

They both get to their feet at the same time, Tamamori’s arms on either side of Senga to brace him, but Senga’s center of gravity is pretty low and it’s easy for him to balance. He doesn’t sway or anything, standing to his full height and stretching out the kink in his neck, which seems to convince Tamamori.

“I’ll call the others back, but take it easy, okay?” Tamamori tells him. “We don’t want any more falls.”

As stupid as it sounds, even in his own head, Senga stares at Tamamori’s face and is pretty sure he’s already fallen again. He excuses himself to get some fresh air, and Tamamori must have declared him cured because he doesn’t even question it, just returns the ice pack to the freezer and curls up on the couch like he plans on napping until the rest of the group returns.

Senga knows it will be a good hour before they reassemble, so he curls up outside and opens Tamamori’s letter. It’s cold but not intolerable, Senga’s scarf doing well to protect his face and ears, and the cold wall feels nice on the back of his head as he leans against it.

This time there are several pages in the envelope, front and back, and Senga wonders what the hell Tamamori could have possibly written him that was so long. It starts with “To Letter-san” and Senga’s already smiling by the time Tamamori finishes expressing the importance of Letter-san’s journey. Not just to reach Senga, but to serve as the sole medium of thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams.

_You may not know it, Letter-san, but I’ve also had quite a journey_ , and Senga’s hooked as the next five pages are basically Tamamori’s life story that he hasn’t yet shared with the adoring public. It’s nothing too personal, or even really substantial, just some childhood memories that Tamamori clearly still remembers perfectly. Playing with his brother, making a volcano in science class, watching his mom get ready for an evening out. The way he describes all of these instances is like Senga is actually there, seeing what he sees and feeling what he feels. Tamamori’s not even using any flowery language or imagery—he’s just telling a story.

From there it goes into adolescence, and Senga laughs as Tamamori reminisces about his middle-school friend who would always get slapped by the girls for being a pervert. _I never understood his fascination with their skirts_ , Tamamori says. _I still don’t._ By this time he was in Johnny’s, probably right when Senga met him. They were so young, and it was so long ago that Senga doesn’t know how Tamamori still remembers all of this. Senga has vague memories of everyone learning to skate and being awkward with each other, but that’s about it. Clearly Tamamori remembers much more than that.

> But the one that challenged me the most was Senga-kun.
> 
> He was smaller and younger than me, but better at almost everything.
> 
> I had to beat him. (>_<)

Senga grins into his scarf, feeling proud and a little flattered at being the level that Tamamori held himself up to back then.

> He’s still smaller and younger than me, but I think I’ve held my own in the our battle.
> 
> It’s just for fun, anyway. We both know the real battle is between us and Fujikita. (^_^)
> 
> Someday Senga-kun will be in the front with me, and we will shine together. (*^o^)/\\(^o^*)

Something in Senga’s heart aches more than just Tamamori’s faith in his abilities. He had never thought he and Tamamori were competing at anything, but maybe that was just him being naïve. Tamamori goes on to recall some incredibly old Kisumai events that Senga doesn’t remember even after Tamamori describes them in full, though they sound like fun times.

It’s at this point he realizes that nothing in this letter so far has been unpleasant; all of the memories Tamamori has shared with Senga (Letter-san) are positive, or hopeful. Senga knows for a fact that back then Tamamori had hated his life but was too stubborn to quit, fighting tears nearly every day as Fujigaya consistently laid into him for not trying hard enough, but Tamamori doesn’t even allude to any of that.

Then Senga reaches the part of the letter that would definitely never go on Dengonban: _On our third tour with KAT-TUN, Kitamitsu dared Miyacchi to kiss me, and I liked it._ Senga reads that sentence three times before he believes what it says, his hands shaking from more than just the cold.

> It was my first proper kiss and I was so confused. (#>.>#)
> 
> But Kitamitsu explained that it was okay since we were all friends.
> 
> And so I went on to experience all of my firsts with them.

Thankfully Tamamori doesn’t go into any detail, just chalks it up to a ”good time” and says that he looks back on it as a fundamental step in growing up. That’s kind of how Senga feels about it, if he had to put it into words—he doesn’t regret that any of it happened, but he doesn’t regret nothing coming from it either. He couldn’t imagine actually dating Nikaido; they would drive each other crazy.

Then Senga reads the line that has him falling completely still, even his shivers ceasing: _I think that all of those casual encounters have hindered my ability to love, or should I say, I love too much?_  Tamamori goes on to say that he doesn’t know the difference between friendly and romantic love, at least what society deems as being in a romantic relationship, because to him there’s no difference. He asked his mother once, and she had just told him that he’ll know when he feels it. _I’m twenty-two now, and I’ve either never felt it or felt it a million times over_.

It’s interesting, actually, reading someone else’s self-exploration on the topic. This isn’t something that guys usually talk about, outside of the occasional interview. Senga used to have a lot of female friends, but they were too young and inexperienced to have anything worthwhile to contribute. Senga can relate with Tamamori more than he’d like to admit, incredibly impressed with Tamamori’s courage to just put it out there in this letter for Senga to read.

> Miyacchi is in the process of getting a girlfriend and it’s great.
> 
> He’s so happy, which makes me happy. (^w^)/\\(♥C♥)
> 
> I asked him how he knew he was in love with her, and he said it was because he wanted to see her all the time and know everything about her.
> 
> I joked that he used to say that to me (lol).
> 
> He just laughed and said that’s different because I’m a boy.
> 
> I guess I can’t understand that, because the two weigh the same to me. (._.)

This was a recent conversation, Senga learns as Tamamori elaborates on his feelings on the matter. Possibly just a few days ago, judging by the freshness of Tamamori’s thoughts, all over the place with several tangents. Senga’s nearing the end of the first side of the last page, so Tamamori can’t wax philosophical for too much longer, though he seems to realize he’s talking in circles and abruptly cuts himself off, leaving Senga hanging with absolutely no resolution.

> And this is why I need you to help me, Letter-san.
> 
> Because I want these feelings to reach Senga-kun. (^w^)
> 
> He has things that he wants to tell me, but he can’t let them out, and I think that sharing all of this with him may help him open up more.
> 
> He’s been kind of withdrawn lately and I think that’s my fault. (_ _)
> 
> I don’t know what I did, but I want to make it better, whatever it is.
> 
> Because Senga-kun is someone important to me.
> 
> I started this letter exchange to make him happy, but it seems to have the reverse effect. (;_;)
> 
> I hope that when you return to me, you’ll bring with you Senga-kun’s words that he’s keeping inside.
> 
> From the heart of Tamamori Yuuta (~_~;)

Senga stares at the stack of folded papers for a long time. His phone buzzes in his pocket, undoubtedly one of the others calling him back to practice, probably worried about him and yelling at Tamamori for letting him leave, but Senga can’t move. Tamamori’s words keep swimming in his mind, combining in a multitude of conclusions that make Senga’s brain hurt just to think about.

And then he realizes it’s pretty damn simple. Slowly he stands and folds the letter into his coat, calmly walks back to the room smiling at the others’ frantic berating, and the rest of their rehearsal and the subsequent performance go off without a hitch. He only looks at Tamamori twice, both times because he was speaking, and all he noticed was that Tamamori was sure of himself, standing tall and offering his opinions because he knew that they mattered.

Senga goes straight home that night and writes twelve pages of his own manifesto, everything he hasn’t been able to say even to himself just pouring out through his pen, and promptly tears it up upon finishing.

The next morning, he drops a thin, stamped envelope addressed to Tamamori in the mailbox and prepares himself for another meeting, the last one for a long while since Yokoo and Nikaido’s play is starting soon. Single promotions are over and there’s still a long time before the holidays, leaving Senga with a good amount of well-deserved free time.

“Nice to see you smiling again,” Tamamori hisses on his way out the door, where he jumps on Miyata’s back and laughs the whole time Miyata tries to carry him down the hall.

Senga spends the next couple days alone, doing some long overdue cleaning and marathoning some TV series he’s been meaning to watch. Fictional romances are so _dramatic_ , he muses as he watches hearts break and faces get slapped. It makes him feel much better about his own life.

On the third day, he’s outside kicking a soccer ball around with his brother, their mother fretting about them both getting pneumonia, when a colorful bundle of layers walks up to their yard. Senga knows it’s Tamamori from the hair, but his eyes are firm and Senga quickly makes up something about having something of Tamamori’s to return to get them into his room and away from prying ears.

For as rushed as Senga feels, Tamamori takes his time unraveling his three scarves and two coats, leaving the sweater on. He doesn’t take very well to the cold, which leaves Senga even more confused as to why he actually took the train all the way over here instead of calling or even just texting.

Senga just stares at him, not knowing what to say, and Tamamori slowly meets his eyes. “We’re not going to work together for awhile, so I brought you this.”

He holds out an envelope, which Senga accepts without looking away from Tamamori. “You didn’t have to hand-deliver it—”

“I did,” Tamamori cuts him off, voice even, “because I want to be here when you read it.”

Senga just nods and tears open the envelope, recognizing the paper as his own instead of Tamamori’s yellow anime stationary, and when he opens it, it’s the same letter he’d originally sent to Tamamori with a scrawled response just below it.

> **THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU DON’T WRITE IN A LETTER!!!**

Sheepishly Senga stares at the one line he’d written, remembering how easy it had been to say: _All I know is that I think I love you_.

Then the paper falls to the floor as Tamamori grabs his face, pressing their lips together and it’s cold and hot at the same time, Tamamori’s hands like icicles while his mouth is warm and welcoming. Senga can’t stop himself from melting into the kiss, not that he wants to stop, and the first faint moan that sounds from the back of Tamamori’s throat has him turning the uncertainty into a certainty.

His revelation is interrupted when the door opens and they break apart, both looking at Senga’s mom with big eyes as she looks just as shocked.

“I’ll just wait for you two to come down for hot chocolate,” she says, flashing a smile before closing the door behind her.

Senga brings his hands to his face, but Tamamori just slings an arm around his shoulder. “They’ll get used to it.”

“Will they?” Senga asks, the question meaning more than just his parents, since they only way they could get used to it is if it keeps happening.

“Only if you never write me another letter _ever again_ ,” Tamamori tells him, and Senga bursts out laughing. “Seriously, you’re _awful_ at it.”

“Maybe I just want to read them,” Senga says in defense. “Though I did write a much longer one before I scrapped it for this last one.”

“Why did you do that?” Tamamori asks, pouting. “I would have loved to read it.”

“I would rather tell you all those things myself,” Senga says, and Tamamori sucks his pout right back into his mouth. It’s cute, just like the rest of him, his gorgeous face and gentle eyes that right now are looking only at Senga.

“Well, we have plenty of time,” Tamamori says, inviting himself to take a seat on Senga’s bed and pulling the sweater over his head, leaving two more shirts underneath.

“Yeah,” Senga says, feeling more relaxed than he should with a potential whatever-this-is in his bed. “We still have a few weeks before we have to go back to work.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tamamori says quietly, and Senga thinks there’s something to be said about what goes _un_ said.


End file.
